10:44 p.m. - 10/06/03
the best laid plans of mice and chordlings.
The plan: (as you may recall) To tell the doctor that I had a lovely discussion with Chas, and we needed to waylay all other pain discussion to focus on the weirdness with my parents and specifically my dad. What actually happened: A long discussion of what it was like to talk with Chas, what it's been like to have Chas in my life, and what the conversation did for me - as punctuated by my spastic grins and an actual *coo* from the Superdoc. As in "Awwohhh!" Yes. That was lovely. It took place when I told him about the night I won the language arts award, which Chas presented, and she gave this marvelous speech about writing like she'd never seen from a student before, writing that she hadn't seen from many people in general, and then said *my name* ... and when I reached the stage, she asked if she could hug me. A stunned me answered yes, she gave me one of her patented amazing hugs and said, "I've been waiting all year for this hug." Now doesn't that make you want to be all mushy, too? Don't you just love her? How could you not?
But I was talking about plans. What actually happened started out with a discussion of the Chas conversation and the Chas-relationship in general, yes, but it did not end there. Somewhere between the session's beginning and its end, I became inebriated or something. I lost my mind. I got caught up in the rhythm of the talking-waves and forgot to pay attention to what I was saying, and somehow, without me planning it, or obsessing over it, or stamping the subject APPROVED for sharing, I ended up talking about sexuality with him. About IT.
What. the hell? was. I. thinking??
Obviously, the point is that I wasn't, or at the least, that's the story with which I've chosen to stick. I can't say there isn't some exhileration in having finally passed the words past my fantasy and through my lips into the actual air between us. There's some exhileration, relief complicated by wonder: what will come now? I very much wanted a turtle shell by the end of the session, to curl up under and disappear, and I told him as much...but I wasn't entirely upset about it. I mean, I've been saying I need to tell him about this for months. I've been saying I *want* to tell him about this, on occasion, for months. And I never have, and I did today. And at the very least, I'm not obsessing over lies of ommission, like I was a couple sessions back. Now I'm freaking out over the fact that, the way the session ended - by checking our next appointment while standing in the waiting room with my mom - I didn't get to say, "and even though I know you know this, this is just one of those times when I have to say it for my own sanity: you cannot even *look* at my mother in a way that suggests we've talked about any of what we've talked about. or will talk about. please. you cannot even hint or suggest or hypothetically *mention* this. or I'll die and the world will explode, not necessarily in that order."
I know. It's almost funny. It is funny that I'm so terrified. And at the same time, when the terror is real, when there isn't this silly nervous energy to play with, it's really, really painful. Maybe that's why I insist on acting like Armageddon approacheth. It's easier than thinking about this like it's something that's actually going to be real in my life. I'd much rather think of it as some Crazy Thing I did when I had Lost All Sense; I'd much rather pretend anarchy will ensue. And I told him as much. I did. He kept talking about how many other topics I've introduced feeling like they would undo me and survived nonetheless. He said he knew I was feeling like the world was about to explode, that being in a growth spurt feels awkward, and he'd see me through the awkwardness starting on Friday. I told him that assuming we could work on this Friday implied that the world *wasn't* going to explode in the next five minutes, and he agreed that this was a rather big assumption on his part. I also asked him if I could just not grow. "Stay 5'3"." He asked if that's really a goal I want to make, which made it all serious and of course it's *not* a goal, so I suggested we go back in time and not have talked about it, which he seemed to understand better. Actually, I'm sure he understood it all. He must. For the very obvious reason that he reads this freaking journal. He must. No one is that intuitive. Either he reads this or he's superhuman. Why won't he just confess?
Trying to delay panic with silliness. La. La, la, la...
Erg. Ok. I'm going to try and focus here, even though I'm sleepy and that makes it easy to be silly and nervous and pretend none of this is real. I had a session today. During that session I mentioned again how people in my life tend to see me with any guy remotely near my age and go, "Oooh! Be a couple!" - which annoys me. I tried to blow it off by saying, "But you know, that's how it was in high school, too...so..." and he asked about how it went back then. I talked about my guy friends, how I would hug them, and hear later, "Are you and so-and-so dating? Because I saw you hug in the hallways, and..." - which drove me nuts because I hugged all my friends all the time, but seeing as I was supposed to be falling in love with and dating a guy by this point, those were the hugs that mattered. Meanwhile, I'd go and hang out with friends - like Jason, who I mention in the very first Atomgirl entry, wowie - and come home to knowing looks from my parents. Completely moronic knowing looks as they only made it more obvious how much people *didn't* know. The doctor talked about how it must have felt isolating, like it was one more part of me that was different. But no, he said that when we had actually gotten to, "maybe I have a sexuality, and maybe it's girl-meets-girl" (and I just feel compelled to say that typing the first half of that sentence makes my head twirl and my stomach knot; typing the second half makes me feel like someone's stuffing heavy velvet down my throat. And I told him that actually, my not having a sexuality (which is what I continued to claim, and what my friends defended to others, even if they occasionally fought me against it) was separating also, though it was separating more as a "quirk" of my personality than something which might warrant serious ostracism.
Aiy. This is getting more difficult, and I don't like that.
Somehow, for some logical reason, he ended up asking me if I'd ever felt anything (like attraction or desire) in school. He wanted to know if I had simply not felt anything for the friends that people tended to point out and prod toward coupledom or if I'd not felt anything, period. I think this was the point where I really had to grit my teeth and decide to tell him the truth as opposed to the "truth." The "truth" would have been a drawn out description of how I never felt anything like physical attraction, sexual desire, blah blah blah. And none of that would be lying. The truth was something like, "That's a really hard question."
"It is a really hard question."
"I guess, it's hard because I don't really know what it's supposed to feel like. And so I don't have a point of reference to say, yeah, that's what I felt, or no, that isn't. I don't know what it's supposed to be. That and...everything I felt...all the people that I really connected with...and felt close to...were... ... ... ...girls." I waited to see what shades of red my skin could turn and hear what he could possibly say in response to this, and he stayed so calm, maybe even upbeat, and I began to freak out. He said it must have been isolating, wondered if I'd perhaps felt like I wasn't being totally honest with people, like I was presenting oneself to some people and had this other self that was real. I told him I don't think "it" ever progressed that far. I told him how I basically started adolescence at, like, age ten...and that as sexual thoughts began to enter my head, I felt such immense shame, and I would instantly counter them with thoughts of the teachers at school who I particularly respected, liked, admired, the people I wanted to respect and have affection for me. I would think about what they would think if they knew about these thoughts and what kind of a person I really was, and so forth, and somehow I just shut it off. I convinced myself that it wasn't there. My friends took it as a quirk, one of those weird Mary-things you just joked about and let be, and I certainly wasn't going to bring it up seriously. He asked if I ever talked about it like this with anyone, and I tried to think if I had ever talked about it with anyone to begin with. After about ten seconds silence (and hard thought) he suggested I hadn't. I told him I hadn't. Not really. I'd never said a word to anyone at school, and at home the possibility that I was gay was this huge drama waiting to be tied into "reasons Mary is sick" - and I never wanted that. He asked how it came to be a topic at home. I told him it was my oldest brother's guess as to why I started struggling, that I didn't know why but it was, and that from that point on, my parents latched onto it a bit.
I mentioned Jenna. (Dear God, I even mentioned Jenna.) I told him that there was one girl, at Rogers, "the girl who went m.i.a." - and he instantly picked it up, "you were working to figure out what your relationship was" (not like sisters, but so close, what are we, he remembered...aiy!) ... I told him that Jenna and I had connected over the lack of understanding among our fellow residents for anything other than the straight-and-narrow, and that we'd done some talking. "General talking?" he asked, and I said, yes, general. I said that she'd had an intimate relationship with a teacher, which was sort of parallel to the feelings I'd had for Chas. (I told him about Jenna. And about Chas. And I'm no longer breathing...But hey, why not tell all, if we're going to tell some? Let's just go for broke, here, right?) And then I started to bury myself below my hair and try to pull my shoulders over my neck. He kept talking, but I was too weirded out to continue. He said that there was no bad part of me, something I remember from the vague conversations regarding the "it" we couldn't talk about, and that I needed to remember (lastly) when I tried to come Friday and started to freak out, that he thinks I'm a pretty cool person even at those times when I don't. (That's another direct statement. No implications. Just flat-out I-don't-hate-you words.) I told him the world would explode before Friday, and he said if it did we wouldn't have anything to worry about.
He said that this part of me, which he clarified was the part of me that could connect to people in all sorts of different ways, was not bad, and we would work to understand it, etc. I know that he's a lot less scared of it than I am, and I can understand that. I can even believe that, if I just get in the pool, he won't let my drown. I don't know how to swim, and I'm convinced I'll die, but he says otherwise, so if I just *get in the pool* - he must have some plan for making sure I breathe air and not water, stay alive. It's such a weird topic to end on, so suddenly, so real. I hate the four days between me and the next appointment. Damn them. In general, I think this Friday/Monday scheme is good for me, though. I don't fall into a pattern of 3-4 days between appointments. Instead, I pull myself through a whole (work/school) week, have an appointment, and then - "randomly" - have an appointment just two days later. The Monday appointments feel like these sort of bonus-keep-me-sane deals to help with the hard work of the Friday sessions and the rest of the week. I have a theory that the rest of this week is going to be very, very interesting. Were you missing this topic? Because I don't see myself writing about much else...
It could happen though. I could decide to distract and deny, and stick to that firmly until Friday (at the earliest.) That's not an entirely merit-less plan.
This is a good thing. Really, I hope it is.
chord
p.s. when we were talking about Chas, he said I had this whole new "lilt" in my voice, and I smiled sheepishly and said, "yeah, I get all weird when I start talking about her. I can't help it." the silly grins, the bouncy voice. but he said no, I had this *really great lilt* in my voice, and he didn't think it was weird at all. he liked it. he earned a silly grin all his own for saying that.
p.p.s. I did leave out the encounter with the tampon-dispenser-dissembling girl. I guess there has to be *some* material remaining for other days. though, seriously, we have plenty. PLENTY. the universe can feel free to take a break on plot complications in my life for awhile. it can feel *oh so free* to go easy on me.
I'm sure in some scheme of something, this was the exactly right day to start talking about this. But I did not see it approaching on my calendar. so I'm a little...well, you've read the entry. you have a good concept of what I am by now...
c.
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